


Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

by ohsnap



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Bela, Gen, Hell, Very short one-shot, i wrote this like a year ago and never thought to post it, season 8? season 9? i don't remember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8514928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsnap/pseuds/ohsnap
Summary: Abaddon needs Sam and Dean dead, and stumbles upon one Bela Talbot. One-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well I don't watch Supernatural anymore, but I wrote this when I did. Thankfully I remembered I had it and decided it was good enough to post as my first published fic. Just a one-shot in which two badass women meet in an unlikely place, have a good day.

This part of Hell is so pitiful, Abaddon thought.

Everything in Crowley’s Hell was pitiful, honestly, but this was the biggest disappointment. This was supposed to be where all the juicy torture went on, all the fun, and it was absolutely pathetic. Abaddon didn’t see torture. The only thing she saw was plenty of souls crying in their too-clean cells and a less-than-satisfactory number of blood stains on the walls. So boring.

Abaddon stepped around a pile of vomit. Fixing up this place was going to be so much work, and thanks a lot, Crowley.

The cell door labeled Prisoner 113963 came into view, which angered her even more, because Hell wasn’t about being orderly, for crying out loud, it was about grabbing the closest soul in sight and creating as much pain as you can with whatever instruments you have. You don’t put labels on cell doors. Hell, you don’t have cell doors. 

She remembered why she was even looking for Prisoner 113963 in the first place, and that was because of the Winchesters. She’d sent her best demons after Sam and Dean only to have news of a failed mission come back one too many times. Her demons weren’t motivated; they didn’t want it bad enough. She’d do the job herself - she fantasized about snapping Sam and Dean’s necks every night - but she had other matters, such as Crowley, to take care of, so she was swamped. 

She needed someone who wanted the Winchesters dead just as much as her, maybe even more. She needed someone who had personal motives. 

So when her sources informed her of Prisoner 113963, she knew she’d hit a jackpot. 

Abaddon opened the cell door and strode right in immediately, exerting as much dominance as possible in just a few steps. First impressions were crucial in Hell, as was superiority. She looked down at Prisoner 113963 and observed its appearance. The soul, just like any other soul, had taken the form of its old body: a slender woman with dirty blonde hair and a pretty face. Underneath the blood and the grime, Abaddon had to admit it didn’t look half bad.

However, there was one difference: this prisoner wasn’t a soul, not anymore. Time and pain had already warped it into nothing but black smoke - it was already a demon.

She decided to cut straight to the point. “You know the Winchesters?” she said.

The newly-shaped demon nostrils flared with hatred when the name was mentioned. I already like this one, Abaddon thought. “Who are you?” the demon asked, annoyed. British accent. Very snappy.

“Abaddon.”

“And? You act like I even give a damn.”

Abaddon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I forgot that all you poor bastards stuck down here don’t even know what’s going on upstairs.” She took delight in the way the demon’s eyes sunk at the word upstairs - this demon hadn’t seen the light of day in probably over 500 Hell years. “We’ll save the details for later, but all you need to know is that I’m the boss. You do as I say from now on.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Abaddon decided to let that one slide. “I have more important things to discuss with you. You never answered my question: do you know the Winchesters or not?”

“Oh, I know them plenty.” Loathing dripped from the demon’s words.

“Good. I’ve come to the right person. Your name used to be Bela Talbot, am I right?”

The demon’s face went slack with recognition and shock. Bela Talbot clearly hadn’t heard her own name in quite some time. 

“Well, Bela, I’ve come to make a deal with you. You’ll like it: I’ll let you out of here if you do a favor for me.”

Bela raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”

“I need you to kill the Winchesters for me.”

Bela was stunned into silence. It had the desired effect; Abaddon could see the hunger in her eyes, and she knew immediately that this demon was the only person in Hell that wanted Sam and Dean dead even more than her.

“It’s more than fair,” Abaddon continued. “I know about your past with the Winchesters. I know they let you go to Hell. They turned their back on you when you most needed their help. And I’m guessing that ever since you got dragged to Hell you’ve thought about nothing but getting payback for what they did to you.”

“You don’t even know the start of it,” Bela murmured with a glint in her eye that made Abaddon shiver with excitement. 

“Which is why I know you’ll do the job right. See, Sam and Dean have been an enormous pain in my ass for quite some time, and I need them eliminated. And there’s no one more motivated to get it done than you.”

Bela’s eyes were wild with excitement, but she still hesitated. “How do I know this isn’t just some sort of game?” she asked.

“You don’t. But if you don’t accept, then you just go back to rotting in this” - Abaddon looked around disdainfully - “cell for eternity. At least, if you do as I say, you get time out and a shot at killing the Winchesters. It’s the best offer you’ll ever get.”

Bela looked like she was considering it. 

“I’ll give you a bonus,” Abaddon bargained. “I’ll fix up your old meatsuit for free. And the looks on Sam and Dean’s faces is gonna be priceless when they recognize you.”

It was a done deal, she knew it right away. 

Bela lifted her eyes and smirked. “Very well. Hardly a problem for me, anyway.”


End file.
